


Blood Bank

by benschins



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Based on Song Lyrics, Blood Bank, Bon Iver, Friends to Lovers, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-27
Updated: 2013-08-27
Packaged: 2017-12-24 19:07:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/943581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benschins/pseuds/benschins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Then the snow started falling. We were stuck out in your car. You were rubbing both my hands, chewing on a candy bar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood Bank

**Author's Note:**

> I highly, highly, HIGHLY recommend you listen to the song Blood Bank by Bon Iver while you listen to this, as it was the inspiration for this fic. I absolutely adore that song. Lyrics are in the end notes.
> 
> Two things:  
> a) This story is not betaed, so bear with me here.  
> b) I'm from the US, so please excuse any inconsistencies with British vs American word usage.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own anything. That honor goes to Sir ACD and Moftiss. All credit for the song goes to Justin Vernon, the amazing man behind the name Bon Iver.

The air inside the blood bank crackles and pops with the energy exuded by the scurrying Yarders. Red spills across the floor to reflect the harsh fluorescent lighting as the DI in charge gives orders to the yelping inferiors. Ribbons of crime scene tape decorate the surrounding area, and the stiffening body lying amongst the leaking bags of crimson could almost be sleeping, without the excess amounts of scarlet.

They stand off to the side, one watching the scene before them, the other watching his companion. It’s not often that the taller one is content to just stand quietly, but he does this time. The shorter one beside him tugs on the cuff of his coat, urging the detective to tilt his head down, eyes leaving the scene before him.

To one of the uniforms rushing about, it would appear that the shorter is revealing some clandestine secret to the detective. The former lets out a snort of indignation at whatever the now-grinning doctor had said. Inappropriate behavior for a crime scene, but these two have been defying social niceties since the day they met.

A figurative shadow floats in the air between the two men. Unnamed, seemingly unimportant. Unhurried. The shadow has tested honor and teased logic for years. But it’s a good shadow, and they both let it stay there, covering them.

* * *

 

Then the snow starts to fall.

The detective and the doctor sit in a nondescript car on the side of a street, watching the inky, looming building ahead, as the clouds spit snow like down feathers from a world-weary pillow. It is cold, but necessary to keep the engine off. The taller man is unusually susceptible to chilled air, and his hands have been near numb through his gloves for several minutes.

The doctor notices everything about the man beside him, because he has been taught to observe. There is a faint blush at the tips of the detective’s nose and ears, and the collar of that coat is turned up about his neck. Puffs of delicate smoke move away from familiar bow lips, but this is from the cold, not a nicotine habit.

Taking another bite of the sugar-restoring candy bar in his grip, he tugs the other man’s hands into his lap and slips off the gloves. The gentle friction of medicinal hands against scientific instantly warms the detective.

“How bloody typical that the snow shows up tonight,” he says with a smile.

The detective can almost see the crescent moon reflected in those brilliant blue eyes, now black in the darkness surrounding them. 

The shadow parts timidly, allowing them to see each other.

Their lips meet in a soft, hushed kiss.

* * *

 

There is skin against skin. 

 

Soft, quivering breaths. 

 

Delicate fingers against a shattered scar. 

 

Sheets entangling. 

 

Choked back inhales. 

 

Quiet sighs.

* * *

 

They both lie awake in the doctor’s room above, neither saying a word. Newborn sunlight creeps across the floor toward the new lovers, reaching its fingers greedily, but not quite touching.

The friendly shadow hovers dangerously close now, threatening to burst. The murmuring secrets are left there. Unshared, yet understood. The detective admires the doctor’s heart as the older man brushes an adoring hand against harsh cheekbones.

It’s a holiday, they know. Later, their home will be full of the people closest to them, laughter spilling from under the heavy front door and onto the street. 

But for now, each is content to remain in the other’s embrace as the sun finally filters in through the hazy window and embraces tangled pale and tan skin.

The flat creaks in quiet acknowledgement of its residents as snow continues to fall softly like friendship onto the lonely roof.

**Author's Note:**

> Blood Bank, Bon Iver:
> 
> Well I met you at the blood bank.  
> We were looking at the bags, wondering if any of the colors matched any of the names we knew on the tags.  
> You said, “See look, that’s yours. Stacked on top with your brother’s. See how they resemble one another’s, even in their plastic little covers?”  
> And I say, “I know it well.”
> 
> That secret that you know, that you don’t know how to tell. It fucks with your honor, and it teases your head.  
> But you know that it’s good, girl. ‘Cause it’s running you with red.
> 
> Then the snow started falling. We were stuck out in your car. You were rubbing both my hands, chewing on a candy bar.  
> You said, “Ain’t this just like the present, to be showing up like this?”  
> As the moon waned to crescent, we started to kiss.  
> And I said, “I know it well.”
> 
> That secret that we know that we don’t know how to tell. I’m in love with your honor. I’m in love with your cheeks. What’s that noise up the stairs, babe? Is that Christmas morning creaks?  
> And I know it well.  
> I know it well.  
> I know it well.  
> I know it well.  
> I know it well.  
> I know it well.  
> I know it well.  
> I know it well.
> 
>  
> 
> (You can find me on tumblr [here](http://bens-chins.tumblr.com)


End file.
